


Put the Car in Drive

by Austennerdita2533



Series: Sometimes Your Touch Feels Like Teeth: Bloodied By Intimacy [7]
Category: The Originals (TV), The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon compliant through the first half of s6, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Fluff, F/M, The post-loss-of-humanity Klaroline we deserved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2021-01-23 22:47:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21327928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Austennerdita2533/pseuds/Austennerdita2533
Summary: Overwhelmed with flipping the switch and causing damage after Liz's death, Caroline leaves Mystic Falls and finds herself feeling aimless and alone. She calls Klaus. How does the conversation go? What do they say?
Relationships: Caroline Forbes/Klaus Mikaelson
Series: Sometimes Your Touch Feels Like Teeth: Bloodied By Intimacy [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1045652
Comments: 14
Kudos: 133





	1. Put the Car in Drive

**Author's Note:**

> I originally posted this on FFnet way back in 2015. Figured it was about time to move it over and give it a few editing tweaks. Enjoy, y'all!
> 
> xx Ashlee Bree

“You have exactly two minutes to tell me all about being the bad guy before I hang up,” she muttered. “Go.”

“Hello Caroline.” She could feel the force of his smirk through the phone. “How lovely to hear from you.”

After their last scandalous (passionate) encounter, Caroline had sworn to herself that she’d de-Klaus her life—an Original Hybrid detox, if you will—and would remove both him, and her feelings for him, from her life forever. When he’d promised never to return, she’d sworn silently never to talk to him, never to think of him again. Unfortunately, she found this forever vow was hard (impossible) to preserve. At least where he was concerned.

As a result, here she was: parked in the middle of Nowhere Tennessee, her head pressed against the steering wheel with a bag of open Doritos resting in her lap, on the phone…with Klaus Mikaelson.

Caroline hated it. She despised herself for this weakness, for this hybrid-sized Achilles heel. But Klaus? Oh, Klaus loved every minute of it. No - wait - that wasn’t right. He didn’t just love it. He relished every second of this. _The smug bastard._

“Only one minute fifty-five seconds left,” she reminded him.

“Right. So is this interest personal or academic?” Klaus asked without sounding deterred at all.

Eyes closed, Caroline sighed. “I didn’t know who else to call..”

Hearing her dejected tone, that lackluster inflection, Klaus dropped his wry pretense. His voice was low and gentle. “You called the right person, love. Now,” he seemed to change tactics, his attitude a little probing, “what is it you want to know?”

Caroline jolted back in the driver’s seat, allowing her head to rest comfortably against the headrest. Muting the radio, which seemed to be blaring music from Sad FM at present, she threw her forearm over her face and slumped, unloading her words in an agitated, need-to-vent manner. “Here’s the thing,” she said, “my mom’s dead. I don’t know if you know that or not but my mom died. From cancer. Not from a supernatural curse, a rogue vampire, or a werewolf bite, but from cancer. Freaking _brain _cancer. Isn’t that ridiculous? To die of something so human—in Mystic Falls?” 

Caroline hiccupped here, either to prevent herself from laughing or crying. Who knew which one?

“Anyway, I couldn’t deal with it. I just…couldn’t. I couldn’t breathe, Klaus. I couldn’t fucking breathe! So I shut it off.” She paused, licking her lips. “I shut off my humanity and gave into my darkness. The one temptation I swore to myself, and to you, that held no charms for me. I gave in.” She scoffed, obviously disgusted with herself. “I gave in all the way.”

“And…?” His voice was a balm, his response judgment-free.

“And it was amazing! It was awful,” Caroline checked herself. “I—I was awful,” she corrected. “Though I still controlled the bloodlust, I was a heartless and vindictive bitch. I terrorized my friends, my town; I persecuted perfect strangers who offended me for literally no reason. I was one destructive decision away from becoming a one woman Bonnie and Clyde.”

Klaus chuckled softly at that. Though he said nothing, it was obvious he took some odd delight in hearing her tale. And something else, too. What was it? Satisfaction? Pleasure? Pride? That’s it—that’s what it was. A part of him sounded proud.

Her repressed guilt simmering, Caroline pressed on.

“I mean, not only did I almost revert Stefan back to his Ripper days (and we all know how many years he takes to recover from one of those episodes), but I played Caroline trivia with my ex-boyfriends and snapped some guy’s neck simply because he refused to buy me a tequila shot. I blood-binged, which ruined my necklace. I traumatized innocent studiers because I wanted to watch fear settle into their bones, to see how fast they’d run away from a monster’s pursuit. And I killed six people to prevent boredom on a Friday night. All of which, by itself, would have been terrible enough, but together? Together it hammers the point home: I _suck_!”

At this, Caroline smacked her hands over her eyes and let out an exasperated huff. Rubbing at her temples, she begged for the guilt to disappear. To fade. To lessen. Anything that would appease that relentless fire that scalded her veins with remorse, with regret. She’d do anything to stop the torment. Anything…

_Seriously._

She heard Klaus shut a door before plopping down on something soft, a bed or a chair of some sort, probably cradling his phone into his neck.“Hold on,” he dangled, “what on earth is Caroline trivia?”

Her eyes popped open and she glared at his name on the call screen in her car, “Are you freaking kidding me? I unload a mountain of humanity-less crap on you and that’s the one thing you want to know?”

“Sure. What’s the harm in that, hm?” Caroline could almost see him fixing her with that infamous puppy dog stare, his blue eyes twinkling with flirtatious mischief. He’d jut out his lower lip for extra emphasis, too, just to irk her. “I’m simply curious, sweetheart. Don’t hold it against me or anything, for you’d be liable to mend my poor broken heart,” he crooned.

She made a dismissive sound. 

Secretly, however, she was amused. A small smile crept across her lips as she readied herself to answer him. Though it was weak and felt a little foreign on her face, Caroline savored the pleasantness of smiling again after so many weeks of misery, especially when she acknowledged to herself that only he had been able to instigate it. Only he had been able to draw warmth from her.

_Interesting._

Scratching a hand through her hair, still warm and tingly from this unprompted smile, she tried to explain.

“Matt and Tyler stumbled across me at a bar where I was engaging in some murderous activities. They disapproved, of course, and wanted to go. But I decided that only the winner of my game could leave. Since they’d both dated me, Caroline-themed questioned seemed like the most fun. Whoever won, would live,” shivering in remembrance, she nestled her legs against her chest, “whoever lost, would die.”

“That’s rather creative,” Klaus replied, interest piqued. “Who won?”

Opening her bag of Doritos, she grabbed a handful, “Neither one.”

Silence. 

Shocked? Startled? Surprised? Whatever he was, Klaus masked it well. He delivered his next words in a practiced monotone. “Ah. So you…killed them both then?” 

Caroline coughed, almost choking on her junk food. 

“What? No—_no_! Damon ushered them outside before I—before I could—_no_. No, I didn’t kill them.” She shook her head and laughed without amusement. “Could you imagine? Could you imagine if I had been responsible for killing one of my friends? Or worse, one of the ex-loves of my life? I just—” her hands crumpled into fists “—there’d be no return to humanity after that. Not for me.” 

Klaus considered her words for a moment, measuredly and deliberately. “What makes you so sure?” 

“Because! I’d never forgive myself, okay? I’d never recover.” Caroline wrapped her fingers around the steering wheel and leaned forward into the speaker, almost like she was about to tell him a secret. When she spoke again, it was in a choked whisper, “The guilt and shame would—I couldn’t—it’d,” she trembled, “it’d bury me. I’d never survive.”

“You would, though,” Klaus said. “I know who you are. You’re strong, Caroline, stronger than you know.” His tone was uncompromising and unyielding, like he spoke an absolute truth. “And the strong are resilient, sometimes stubborn, and often tenacious to the point of obsession. I would know. Better than almost anyone, you could say,” he added with an air of mockery, of self-disdain. “People like that always find a way to survive. You would, too. You already have in your own way.”

“What are you talking about? I’m scraping the bottom of the barrel here,” she countered, half hysterical, “don’t you get that? I'm barely living, barely tolerating my own existence! I mean, listen to me! I’m locked in my car, alone, at some crummy Tennessee gas station vampire-shaming myself to a rage-a-holic hybrid who’s probably killed more people than I’ve ever met!”

“Fair point, love. Fair point.” 

Tears trickled down her pale cheeks, smearing her brown mascara. Embarrassed, she blushed. Why was she acting like this? She’d called him, after all, not the other way around.

“I’d wager a majority of my past homicides either resulted from collateral damage or from boredom. It’s difficult to remember let alone calculate.”

Sniffing, she shook her head. Laughed faintly. “Is that supposed to make me feel better or something?”

“Can’t make you feel worse, surely,” Klaus said.

Another smile broke loose at that.

Caroline could almost imagine him lying there, locked away in some swanky mansion in New Orleans with his head resting against fancy pillows, his mind wandering to his burgeoning list of victims, ticking off the numbers of both innocent and guilty alike. How many were there? Hundreds? Thousands? Millions? 

She shuddered at the thought. 

Wearier now, allowing her forehead to collapse against her hands on the steering wheel, she exhaled in surrender, “I’m so lost, Klaus. Can’t you just be a pal and tell me your goddamn secret already? I’m tired.”

A hearty laugh escape from him at this for some reason. It sounded warm and relaxed, like he had received a reprieve and could take a moment to revel in something amusing instead of something dire or derogatory. He sounded almost—well, happy.

In the meantime, Caroline was drowning. _Typical_.

“Your secret? Hello!?”

After taking a minute, he cleared his throat, “I am an almanac of secrets, love. Which one would you care to pick apart?” 

“Just, you know, tell me how you do it. How you swallow your regrets and prevent them from consuming you? Don’t lie to me, either,” she mumbled as her eyelids pressed into leather. “I know you have them.”

“You presume to know me well.”

“You do vile, despicable things, Klaus. But they bother you. They always have,” not lifting her head or opening her eyes, “they always will,” she added.

Caroline heard the lid of a decanter, then the sound of liquid - probably Bourbon - clinking against ice cubes as it emptied into a glass. He needed a drink. And from the sound of it, a strong one. Taking a sip, Klaus let out a small groan. Smacked his lips. 

She could almost feel him scratch the stubble on his chin in thought.

“Time helps. Years, decades, centuries—“ he said with age and listlessness taking hold of him, “they help to fade the atrocities you’ve committed so you’re better able to overlook them. Live with them, so to speak. You never truly forget but you learn to ignore. Repress. You…I suppose you redirect the shame. With time and practice, and as eon after eon after passes away, you’ll master the skill of evasion just like I have. You’ll learn to mute the worst of your mistakes. After you take a deep breath, or a moment for reflection, then you’ll move on again. The trick is to keep track but not to slip back into the abyss. It’s a delicate balance. I haven’t quite perfected it yet myself.”

Devoid of callousness or calculation, his words expressed an openness, a truthfulness, that struck Caroline in the heart. Klaus had granted her access into his psyche willingly and without restraint. He wanted her to know him. To understand him. It was like she’d accidentally cracked open a window into the dungeon where his demons lived and his soul had blown into arrest her, awakening her heart with its empathetic breeze. That touched her. She hated to admit it, but it did. It genuinely touched her.

“What do I do until then? You know,” her lips twitched softly, “until eternity passes and I’m a billion like you?”

“Distract yourself.”

“How?” she asked.

“Well, for starters…drive.” Caroline heard Klaus take another large swig from his drink. After he finished, she heard the clunk of his glass on the counter and the _pling_ from the decanter which signaled he’d unplugged it for a refill. “Put the keys in the ignition and start up your car. Drive out of that dilapidated little town you’re hiding in, and go,” he said. “Just go.”

“I can’t.” With her knuckles whitening around the gear shift, she bit at her bottom lip, “I can’t go back to Mystic Falls, okay?”

“So don’t. Just drive.” Persuasion underscored his statement but it was calm and vague. It was not at all pressuring which made him more convincing somehow, with his advice more likely to be heeded.

Abruptly and with no goodbye, the call ended. Like a new moon, Klaus disappeared into the black March night. He had spoken his wisdom, and then was gone.

Rolling her forehead across her left hand, Caroline peered at the call screen with one eye and stared at his name still plastered there in flashing white letters. They’d spent more than fifteen minutes on the phone. Much longer than she’d expected or intended.

After releasing a long sigh, she sat back in her seat and started the ignition. As she maneuvered out of the parking lot and onto the interstate, she extracted a map from the glove compartment. Laying it flat on the passenger seat next to her, she gave it an affectionate pat. Although she still felt lost, she at least knew her next destination. 

The map was already starred and circled with the name of a city. It was a place Caroline had never visited but had always wanted to see, so why not? She wasn’t happy back home. There was no one there to hold her back now. There was nothing much left to lose except time. Besides, didn’t she deserve an adventure anyway?

And so, like Klaus suggested, she just drove.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? Comments are lovely.


	2. Put the Cark in Park

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where does Caroline end up?

The same damn car had been making the same blasted noise outside his window for the past fifteen minutes. _Honk, honk! Honk, HONK_! 

The beeping - which was persistent and obstinate - had roused him from a particularly delectable dream where he’d gotten to bask in the submission of his enemies, dehydrating their veins until they withered like prunes at his feet and he could mount their disloyal heads on the wall of victory. He was free from opposition, free from antagonism. Klaus the King. 

_Bow down, peasants. Bow down_. 

The only thing missing was…

_Honk, HONK! _

Klaus groaned. With a pillow pressed over his ears, he rolled over to check the clock. It was 4 AM. What respectable person honked like a raving, impatient lunatic while people were trying to sleep? 

_Honk, honk, honk! _

A menacing growl escaped his chest. Someone who wanted to die, that’s who.

Jumping out of bed, Klaus pulled on a pair of jeans, a green shirt, and brown shoes before he leapt from his balcony onto the street below. He hit the cobblestone pavement with the agility of a wolf. Crouched. Weight on his toes. Not a sound. 

Eyes closed, nose tilted in the air, he breathed in an intoxicating vanilla scent. _Lovely. _Just around the next corner, too. _Time for a snack_.

Klaus hesitated at the edge of the building, prowling in the obscurity of the alleyway. A sly smirk lifted the corners of his mouth because he lived for this bit. The chase. This was the part of the hunt he liked best.

Peering around the bend, he snuck a peek at his unsuspecting prey. Legs. That’s all he saw—legs. Long ones. 

They were bent over the backseat of a silver Prius, a baby blue dress chafing the exposed skin of her thighs as the chill of the morning erected goosebumps on her pale, silky flesh. He licked his lips, a voracious hunger thumping through him like a jazzy bass - such an encouraging melody - as he salivated in anticipation of the taste of his victim’s sweet, honey blood. He fantasized about it dribbling across his lips. Along his tongue. Down his throat.

Her left hand, delicate yet determined, pressed against the middle of the steering wheel in a relentless rhythm. Her palm _tap, tap, tapped_. It reminded him of a heartbeat.

_Delicious._

Dropping his fangs, Klaus retreated from the shadows and pounced onto the hood of her car like a jungle cat. The vehicle jostled under the force of his weight, halting the girl’s backseat rifling. Irritation filled her lungs and robbed her voice of coherency. She yelled, she cursed, she smacked her head against the roof.

Klaus chuckled to himself, delighted. _Who’s afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?_

The girl stepped backwards and her left foot searched for the sturdy support of the road. The movement seemed awkward, but not hurried. Not frightened. She perceived no danger, no threat. Not yet.

He delayed—patient for the moment her shoulders exited the door to reveal a head of loose waves, a glowing blonde halo of hair, just like…but it wasn’t. It was just another trick of the light. Just one more fruitless wish he must swallow down like bile.

Klaus slithered behind her like a cobra. In seconds, with her body pressed flush against his chest, one hand gripping her by the waist while the other brushed hair from her neck with gentle caresses, he surrendered to the fragrant potency of her blood. Lowering his quivering mouth, he puckered his lips. Prepared for a nice long drink. 

_He’ll huff and he’ll puff and he’ll…_

Two hands clamped around his wrist, _her _hands, bruising the one that was draped around her neck. Strong hands, they were. Resistance drummed in her fingers. Hostility cracked in her knuckles. It seemed she wouldn’t make this easy. He would be disappointed if she did.

Grinning, he tugged the girl tighter. Closer. She smelled lovelier up close and he couldn’t wait to take a lick, a nice long— 

Suddenly all Klaus saw were lights, a whir of color, and sky. Black sky. All he felt was air. That is, until his ribs crashed against the street and shot heat splinters into his lungs. 

A foot rested on his stomach—_her _foot, the girl’s. It squashed him to the ground like a push pin and made it difficult to breathe. Who was this tempestuous little thing?

“That was rude! I hope you don’t treat all of your guests that way,” she sneered down at him, hands on her hips. He looked up.

“Caroline?”

So much for oxygen. The sight of Caroline’s radiance hovering above him, haughty and patronizing though she was, blazed his heart, leaving him breathless. Was he dreaming? If so, he hoped that no one pinched him awake. Nope. Never.

Irritated, she brooded over her scuffed boots. “And yet you wonder why no one bothers to visit.”

Klaus positioned himself onto his elbows. 

“My apologies, love. Had I known it was you, I would’ve been more courteous. Asked before I took a bite, that sort of thing,” he said as he regained his feet.

Turning, Caroline huffed as she removed a pink handbag from the driver’s seat and slung it over her left shoulder, closing the door behind her. She clicked _power lock_ before shoving the keys inside of it and maneuvering to the sidewalk.

Klaus followed her. A jounce characterized his step as he assumed a place beside her, his arms tucked behind his back. Laidback, carefree, there was no need to rush.

They soon strolled away. No plans. No direction. It was the perfect excuse to lose themselves in the splendor of the city…and in each other.

At least, Klaus was lost in her. But wasn’t he always? 

It was her cheerful beauty, the way a smile painted rosiness into those apple cheeks and sent rainbow chills down his spine. There was something about how her blue eyes scrutinized the tainted windows of his soul, clearing through them like they were constructed of glass. There was her sassy tongue, too. How she punctured him with the kind of compassionate honesty that made him tremble with a fury that all too quickly evaporated, filling him with a feverish passion that never abated instead. 

It was the force of her heart most of all. Open—wide open and merciful, her heart was. It ensnared him. It compelled him to his knees, begging, beseeching, that he be allowed to cherish just one small fraction of it. He didn’t care how long he needed to wait, or how little his allotment was bound to be, for he’d revere it regardless. He’d bestow her with all the devotion a girl like her deserved.

“You know, for a paranoid freak you sure sleep like a baby,” Caroline said as they passed the Old Opera House. “I played New Orleans a lullaby and a half of honks before your snoring ass rolled out of bed.”

“What makes you think I snore? To know something like that suggests…what?” He bumped against her shoulder. “What word am I looking for here?”

“I don’t know. Ears maybe?”

“No,” he smirked. “I’m afraid that’s not it.”

Stopping in front of a quaint French café, she rolled her eyes, muttering, “Well, you’d certainly have to be deaf or earless not to hear it.”

Klaus held out a chair at one of the outdoor tables, indicating that she sit down first.

“Intimacy! Ah, yes,” he said as he pushed her under the table, “that’s the word I wanted. Knowing I snore suggests a certain…” he took the chair opposite her, pausing to wag an eyebrow suggestively, “_intimacy_ between us. Wouldn’t you agree?”

While he knew this probably wasn’t the best time to rib her about their history - recently flipped humanity switch, dead mother and all - Klaus found the opportunity impossible to resist. Why? He was greedy and selfish. He loved watching Caroline squirm, visibly conflicted about her feelings for him. 

Was it so wrong for him to crave another moment of her light? To want simply one more day where she refused to cover their connection with hostility and revulsion? Probably. Would he do it anyway? Hell yes.

Caroline fidgeted in her seat, blushing. 

“Poor Rebekah,” she recovered with a smile. “I’m surprised she survived so many centuries without earplugs.”

Klaus shrugged. “Modern technologies have done little to improve her sleeping habits.”

“Meaning?”

“She curls herself tight—into a ball,” he demonstrated by lifting his knees to his chest, “and then claps her hands over either ear to block out the howls of the night.”

Caroline struggled to repress a snort. “Please tell me you’re joking.” 

“It’s true.” Klaus thawed temporarily as he thought about his sister. He became distant, reflective, his mind flicking through a tome of memories. “She’s slept that way since we were children.”

Darkness had given way to sunrise. 

New Orleans began to awaken from its nightly hum. The sidewalks were populating with the smell of delicious cuisine and the sound of tuning guitars, the taste of mimosas, and the crowded decadence of artists, tourists, and locals. Animated and active, the city never rested. And neither did their conversation.

Golden flecks of sunshine streamed across Caroline’s face as she laughed, as she volleyed another quip across the table because he was incorrigible and it was silly to pretend otherwise. She shone with a lightheartedness that only a new morning could bring. The cajun spices in the air were rivaled only by the zest of her personality, of the enthusiasm she wore always. Everywhere. No matter the time of day.

It was lovely to watch her catalogue her surroundings with such acuity. Mesmerizing, truth be told. Klaus couldn’t look away for fear of missing anything. There was that tactile way in which she absorbed the city’s antiquity as well as its newness, one foot balanced between the two, her pupils blown wide with wonder. Her exchanges with strangers were no less vivacious either. Though far more genuine and sweet than he had any right to expect. Just how she interacted with their waiter alone, delving into small talk that grazed the line between casual and personal, adding a follow-up remark or two, a “thank you” anytime he brought or cleared her food, and a smile that was so far from fake, that he believed she could endear herself to almost anyone.

She seemed alive here. Unharried. Autonomous in a way that seemed to free her up to exploring fastidious possibilities. The kind she’d never given herself leave to imagine, at least not prior to her mother’s death. She was an adventuress with time in her back pocket, a grifter of hearts who was worthy of a partner, or perhaps all of that was an illusion Klaus had invented because he wanted it to be a reality, and hoped it would be so desperately?

Leaning forward, he gestured around the café flippantly and said, “So tell me what brought you here, love. Today of all days?” 

It was a loaded question, sure, but one that required an answer.

“Beignets.” Shrugging, though probably not as nonchalantly as she’d hoped, Caroline took a sip of her French vanilla latte. “I was hungry for them. New Orleans is famous for its fried delicacies, or so I've heard.” She looked up at him from beneath coy eyelashes. Held his gaze. “Not to sound presumptuous, but can you think of a better place to satiate such a craving?”

“There isn’t one.”

“Then there’s your answer. _Oui_?”

He could live with that for now.

“_Oui_,” Klaus relented, dimpling slightly.

__ 

They spent the rest of the day together. Chatting, teasing, exploring.

Content to tag along, he let her wander; she stopped to marvel wherever she wanted. She led. He was more than happy to follow. 

For instance, they ambled along the riverwalk until Caroline demanded they stop to dip their toes in the Gulf. It was only after he’d called her idea asinine, pointing out how _sand had a nasty habit of sneaking under socks without him having to remove his bloody shoes as it was_, _so no, there’d be no toe-dipping from him this century_, that she’d responded by tackling him backwards into the water. Soaking them both in ocean and grit. Her arms were like iron around his middle so he couldn’t find his bearings before she dunked him again, triumphant, and still giggling. 

The playfulness of it had caught him off guard. So much so Klaus did something spontaneous: he knocked her feet out from under her then swooped her up in his arms, cradling her against his chest a moment to savor it before trudging from the water, his nostrils full of salt, clothes stuck to flesh, to deliver payback. Hauling her over his right shoulder, he carried her that way through town - despite her drumbeat protests against his back and arse - for two full blocks. At human pace.

Afterwards, they called a truce and Klaus compelled them fresh clothes from a high end shop his family frequented.

Caroline tugged him through the French Market next. Dragged, more like.

He waited, impatiently he might add, for her to procure souvenirs for her Mystic Falls friends. (Not that the fools deserved them, in his opinion.) Tolerating her indecision well enough, he remarked only once that she _bloody choose already_; that is, until she droned on and on about a hand-crafted drum some guy Enzo might like. 

That was when his jealousy spiked. His thoughts started busting apart at the seams.

Who the hell was this guy, this Enzo? A friend? A lover? Some hapless human she pitied but someone who didn’t register much in the eclogues of eternity? Too many horrible possibilities. Must she torture him with such vagueness? 

Klaus never did figure it out his significance. It was liable to drive a man crazy!

The weather was mild, though, and the city thriving so they kept outdoors. They nibbled exquisite food, the more exotic the better. They drank one too many bottles of wine, snuck a nip of a Hurricane from a passing tourist. They caught beads in a Bourbon Street parade, swayed to melancholy jazz at a bar with peeling deck paint, argued over architectural preferences, and visited some of his old haunts from the 19th century.

Art colored the world around them in blessed cacophony. Meanwhile the pulse of the city and all its history revealed itself cobblestone by cobblestone. The echo of their treading footsteps, all those questions that were still left ahead of them, would fold into the streets like a treble clef to preserve their memory. Time would pass as it always did but the pitch of the day would remain the same. It’d gone from surprising to serious, from welcome to wandering, and from playful to perfect in matter of only a few short hours.

It was a good day, in other words. A full day. For Klaus, though, it ended too soon. 

Thick strokes of pink, plum, and orange had melted into a lip across the western skyline by the time they'd arrived back where they’d started: beneath a streetlight in the French Quarter. Caroline leaned against the driver seat door, yawning. After a final stretch of arms over her head, she unzipped her handbag to fish out her keys, rubbing at her eyes.

The sight of that _Life’s short, talk fast _lanyard wrapped around her fingers made Klaus’s heart lurch. He frowned. 

Though he knew better, though he’d expected this, disappointment still gripped at him enough to make his next attempt at impassiveness ring false. Hollow. Could he be any more of a pathetic wretch?

“So,” he said with forced cheerfulness and a grin blunter than a butter knife. “To where are you thinking of traveling next, sweetheart? Do send a postcard for I must admit I miss that trend.”

“Cute.” 

“Surprised, are we?”

“Not really. Just good to know.”

He didn’t know what to make of that. “Will the miles be long or short between us then?” 

“Short. Much shorter than they probably should be,” she said.

Though he swallowed a bitter lump in his throat and nodded in acquiescence at that, looking away from her face, he could feel Caroline considering him with a cock of her head. The intensity of that look burned straight through to his entrails. It froze him there before her, trapped in a web of agony he couldn’t escape.

Pretending to assess the sign across the street, he pinched the bridge of his nose and braced for the scissor kick to the kidney, the sucker punch to the throat, the white oak stake that’d finish him. He prepared himself for the goodbye he wasn’t ready to hear her say. Already he felt it curling and pooling around his ankles like quicksand.

“Klaus?” she said.

“Mmm?”

“You do realize the car is in park, right?”

His left eyebrow lifted as he turned, gaping, “What?”

“The car—” Caroline patted the windshield, tapped her fingers along the drivers’ side mirror “—is still—” that’s when hope started galloping like a cheetah in chest “—in park.” 

_So it was._

Sauntering over to him then, her eyes aglow with purpose and perhaps a hint of flirtation, she reached for his left wrist before gently tracing a line across his knuckles with her thumb. She let her touch linger for a moment, feather light and teasing. Next she flipped his hand so it was palm side up. In it, she dropped her car keys.

“I don’t need to drive anywhere. See?” she said as the metal bit between their clasped hands, which she swung like a pendulum until they flashed to his front door. “I’ve arrived.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are appreciated and thank you so much for reading!


End file.
